


Olicity Flash Fic, Summer 2014

by Easnadh



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Boss/Employee Relationship, Darkness, Flash Fic, Forests, Friendship, Gen, Kissing, Motorcycles, Olicity Flash Fic, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Sexual Tension, Tumblr Prompt, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Violence, into the wild, olicity - Freeform, smoakandarrow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-19
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-01-25 17:48:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 20,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1657046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Easnadh/pseuds/Easnadh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of standalone flash fics written as as part of smoakandarrow's tumblr Olicity Flash Fic event, summer 2014. These works have been written and edited within 60 minutes in response to the prompt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> FF#1: The Embrace of Darkness; Prompt: "Into the Wild"; Pairing: Olicity; Words: 729.
> 
> Written as part of smoakandarrow's tumblr Olicity Flash Fic event, summer 2014. This work has been written and edited within 60 minutes in response to the prompt. Feel free to leave comments and feedback. Thanks!

Oliver was running in the dark. Trees and bushes seemed to lunge at him from all sides, but he dodged them instinctively with an ease that was almost feral. There were no sounds in the forest, only his own breathing, fast but even, and his pulse thundering in his ears. He had lost his comms unit, somewhere back there in the darkness, when he had been so focused on simply surviving that everything had coalesced into a blur of struggle and movement. He had lost his comms unit and so he had lost her voice in his head, and now he was alone in the silence of his mind.

  
The almost silence. There was one thought, pure and clear, repeating itself over and over like a mantra. _I have to get back to her._

It was strange how familiar that was. How close to another time and another forest. To another woman. His mind embraced it easily, falling back into a persona he thought he had abandoned long ago. He slipped between the trees, a fleeting shadow on a black night.

  
There was someone up ahead, talking quietly into a radio. A moment later Oliver saw him, standing in a small clearing, rifle slung across his back. _Careless,_ he thought in contempt. Oliver was upon him in a moment, flowing seamlessly through movements that surged upwards from some primal part of his mind. Almost instantly, the man was down. Oliver raised his hand for the final blow, but a burst of noise somewhere to the north made his head snap up, eyes narrowing as he peered into the distance. He was running before the sounds had stopped.

Oliver raced through the forest, his single-minded focus an arrow pointing him towards his goal. He had to get to her. He reached the location of the sounds and found two more guards down, unconscious or dead. He did not bother to check, moving past them noiselessly. He could see lights now, lighting up the darkness of the forest. They drew him onwards. He knew where she would be.

Time passed measured by his heartbeats, the forest clearing and thinning as he grew closer to the lights. He halted on the edge of the tree-line, breath burning in his throat. Two more guards, their backs to him, eyes on the mansion before them and the arriving guests. Oliver moved backwards, slipping further into the shadows. The darkness embraced him, shielding him as it had so many times in the past. His fingers skimmed a nearby bush, found a suitable branch, and snapped it. Anticipation surged through him as he saw the guards turn and he went to meet them eagerly. They tried to fight against him but he was unstoppable. He was instinct and he was movement and he was darkness. They could not fight against what he was.

It seemed like he had been doing this forever, here in this jungle, fighting for his life. Perhaps he had never left, perhaps everything else had simply been a dream, a fantasy. He had one guard by the throat, watching his eyes as he fought for breath. The other was already out, face down in the dirt. Oliver knew he should release his grip, but another, more urgent part of him was telling him to squeeze tighter, to hold on until the last light faded from his opponent’s eyes.

“Oliver.”

Her voice came to him from far away. She was calling softly, but his name on her lips was unmistakeable. He released his grip on the guard’s throat, barely noticing as he fell unconscious to the ground.

“Oliver?”

This time he answered her. “I’m here.” A pause. “I lost my comms.”

“I know, I was worried.”

He could hear her moving closer, somewhere on the edge of the trees, and then he could see her, blond hair outlined in the bright light like a halo. He wanted to go to her, to take her in his arms, but her presence had brought a sudden clarity and he knew that he could not. He took a final last breath, inhaling the forest, the trees, the darkness, everything that was his battle to survive. And then he left the guards where they had fallen and moved towards the light.

“Oliver.” He could hear the smile in her voice.

He answered it with his own.

“Felicity.”


	2. Game On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FF#2: Game On; Prompt: "Game On"; Pairing: Olicity; Words: 1,558. Summary: Oliver has a run in with Felicity's new boss. (This is a standalone flash fic, unrelated to other ongoing stories.)
> 
> Written as part of smoakandarrow's tumblr Olicity Flash Fic event, summer 2014. This work has been written and edited within 60 minutes in response to the prompt. Feel free to leave comments and feedback. Thanks!

Oliver straddled his bike on the street outside Felicity’s house, glancing at his phone every ten seconds or so. He had called her twice and she hadn’t answered. Usually this would have worried him, but he had checked her tracker, just to make sure she was ok, and he knew she was already making her way home from her first day at work. He scowled at the thought of that, of Felicity working in another company with other people he didn’t know, and with another boss who wasn’t him. It was as if, having become used to being around her all of the time, he had suddenly lost his place in an important part of her life.

In truth, that was actually one of the few things that really bothered him about losing his company. In some ways, not having to be ‘Oliver Queen CEO’ had made his life a lot easier. No more boring meetings, no more high pressure negotiations with shark-like businessmen who wanted nothing better than to see him fail, no more social events where he was forced to paste on a smile and play a part. And most importantly, no more being pulled in two directions all of the time. He still had a small bit of money, enough to get by, and he was starting to realise that being ‘Oliver Queen former billionaire’ was remarkably freeing. Sometimes he wondered what it would be like if he never got his company back at all. If he was being honest with himself, the thought didn’t bother him as much as it should.

Oliver checked his phone again, telling himself it wasn’t weird to activate the tracking app for a third time in ten minutes. He smiled when he saw that Felicity would be rounding the corner at any minute and turned his head in that direction, expecting to see her strolling along the pavement from the nearest bus stop. Instead, his mouth dropped open when a large, black Bentley turned onto the street, cruising slowly past the rows of houses until it finally came to a stop directly in front of him.

The driver got out, blanked Oliver completely, and hastened to open the rear door. Oliver’s eyes narrowed when he saw Felicity, face flushed and eyes shining, caught mid-laugh as the door opened. She turned to get out of the car, and her expression froze for a second when she caught Oliver’s eye.

“Oliver. Hi.” Her voice wobbled a little uncomfortably. “Um, what are you doing here?”

“Well, I did try calling you but... you were obviously busy.”

Oliver cringed inwardly at the obvious annoyance in his tone. He hadn’t intended to sound so hostile, but seeing Felicity in a car so similar to the one he used to own had thrown him completely. His eyes flicked away from her when he heard the door on the other side of the car open, and his jaw clenched when an extremely well-dressed man stepped out, still grinning from whatever he and Felicity had been discussing. He too froze when he saw Oliver, his smile faltering.

Oliver looked him up and down, taking in the expensive suit and shoes, the Rolex watch, the designer cufflinks. He realised that that was how he used to dress, except he had never looked so... self-satisfied? He could see the other man mirroring his actions, taking in his own pricey leather jacket and jeans, and his custom-made bike. For the first time, Oliver felt glad he hadn’t lost his wardrobe when he lost his company.

“Hi, I’m Oliver Queen.” Oliver put on his best fake smile and stuck out his hand, not bothering to get off his motorcycle. “And you must be Felicity’s new boss.”

The other man moved forward, already recovering from his initial surprise. “Of course, of course. I recognise you from the papers. I was so sorry to hear about your recent difficulty.”

He grasped Oliver’s hand and shook it, while Oliver struggled not to overly tighten his grip. He didn’t think that comment was meant as a barb, but he felt like taking it that way.

“I’m Eric Bosen, the CEO over at Riken. I’m just welcoming Lissey here to the company.” He gestured towards Felicity, who was still standing awkwardly between them, and flashed her a warm smile, which Oliver was annoyed to see her return. He ignored Bosen and turned towards Felicity, suddenly intent on taking her attention away from the other man.

“Fe-lic-i-ty.”

Oliver realised he was over-pronouncing the syllables of her name, but the familiarity of ‘Lissey’ had rankled. When she looked around questioningly, he found himself injecting as much intimacy as he could into his tone, as if making some sort of point to their unexpected audience.

“We have to go see that mutual friend of ours,” he said meaningfully, “and we really have to go right away.”

“Oh.” He saw her face change as she caught his meaning. “Ok, just let me get changed real quick.” She dashed off towards the house, only remembering her manners as she was halfway towards the door. She stopped on the steps and called back.

“Sorry Eric, I have to run. Thank you so much for the ride home!”

Oliver watched her disappear into the house before turning back towards Bosen, trying and failing to keep the satisfied smirk off his face.

“So. Bosen. Do you take all your new employees home after their first day at work? Or is it just the pretty ones?” He gave a small, fake laugh, although they both knew he wasn’t joking.

To his surprise, Bosen didn’t falter. “It depends on the employee. I make an exception for some. Tell me, Queen, do you wait around outside your former employees’ homes often? Or...?”

Oliver smiled tightly, refusing to drop the increasingly flimsy veneer of politeness. “Well, you see Eric, Felicity is not just my employee. She’s a very close friend.”

Part of him wanted to imply that they were something more, but his loyalty to Felicity held him back from suggesting that she would ever be engaged in some seedy office affair. Even still, he could see his words sink home. A tense silence followed, and then Felicity was bouncing down the steps towards them. Oliver turned to watch her, pleased to see that she had thrown on a pair of jeans and the leather jacket he had given her. She was busy stuffing her tablet into her backpack, and seemed surprised when she looked up to see Bosen and his car still waiting. Her new boss stepped forward, pointedly ignoring Oliver.

“Felicity... I was meaning to ask you before you ran off... I’ve been having some problems with my personal laptop and I wonder if you could maybe come by my office tomorrow morning and take a look at it?” Oliver caught the corner of Bosen’s disarming smile and struggled to hide his grimace. “It’s probably something really ridiculous, but I’m just so bad with technology.”

Felicity laughed, glancing sidelong at Oliver. “Well, you wouldn’t be the first boss I’ve had who couldn’t sort his fingers out enough to open his email without me.” She hesitated for a second, shutting her eyes as her mind caught up with her mouth. “Not that I think you can’t open email, I mean you’re my boss, I’m sure you’re very competent and really good with your fingers...”

“Felicity.” Even to his own ears Oliver’s voice sounded almost strangled. He took a breath. “We really do need to go.”

“Oh yeah, sorry Oliver. Goodbye, Eric.”

Bosen held out his hand to her and Felicity gave it an awkward shake, faltering slightly when he leaned over to give her a small peck on the cheek.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Felicity.”

He nodded in Oliver’s direction as he walked back to his car.

“Queen.”

“Bosen.”

For a second Oliver wished he had his bow, picturing himself launching an arrow into the other man’s back, but then he was distracted by Felicity sliding onto the back of his motorcycle. He suppressed a sigh of contentment as she wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, relishing the feeling of her chest pressing against his back.

He watched Bosen’s driver open the car door for him and his eyes narrowed as he thought of the other man kissing Felicity’s cheek. He found himself imagining the other moves Bosen was already planning to use on his newest employee when she came to his office the next day.

 _I am definitely getting my company back_ ,Oliver thought. Anything that meant Felicity could come back and work for him and be a million miles away from that creep. _There’s no way I’m losing her to someone like him._

Oliver started the bike and moved out onto the roadway, purposefully passing as close as possible to Bosen as he stepped into his car. He saw the other man’s gaze focus on Felicity’s hands clasped around his waist, and knew he noticed how closely her body was pressed against his.

“Game on,” he said to himself in satisfaction, not realising he was speaking aloud.

“What?” Felicity asked.

“Nothing. Hold on,” Oliver answered quickly, revving the engine. He smiled to hear Felicity laugh as they picked up speed, accelerating down the street and leaving Eric Bosen and his Bentley far behind them.


	3. Too Far, Too Fast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Determined to keep Felicity safe, Oliver begins training her. But training her effectively means forgetting that he loves her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FF#3: Too Far, Too Fast; Prompt: "Too far, too fast".
> 
> Written as part of smoakandarrow's tumblr Olicity Flash Fic event, summer 2014. This work has been written and edited within 60 minutes in response to the prompt. Feel free to leave comments and feedback. Thanks!

Oliver gripped the escrima sticks tightly in his hands, preparing to blast through another training drill on his dummy. Sweat dripped unnoticed down his face and chest and, although he had been doing this for over half an hour, his arms barely ached. Worst of all, his sense of frustration was as strong as ever. Felicity would be here soon.

He took a breath, rooted his feet, and began running through his drills, the sticks tapping out an increasingly rapid rhythm as he carefully targeted and executed each strike. But, even with the noise, he heard the lair door opening and a quiet footstep echoing on the concrete floor.

“Diggle,” he said by way of greeting, not bothering to turn around.

“Oliver.” A short pause. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

Oliver beat out another few strikes on the dummy before turning to face his partner, sticks hanging loosely in his grip.

“What’s going on?”  Even now his breath was barely strained.

Diggle hesitated, shuffling his feet and thrusting his hands into his pockets. Oliver raised his eyebrows.

“Is Felicity coming by later?” the other man said finally, his tone almost casual.

“Yeah, she should be here soon.” Oliver’s eyes narrowed. “Is there something wrong?” A familiar sense of worry struck him, one that he only experienced where Felicity was concerned.

“Not exactly. I watched her yesterday after you guys had been training and she seemed, well, a little down.”

Oliver clenched his jaw. He already knew where this was going. “She asked for this, remember?” He turned and started whacking the dummy again. “You were a soldier, Dig, you know how it is. How exactly do you think she should feel after training?”

Diggle sighed loudly. “Oliver, I understand that she needs to learn, but there’s no sense in pushing her too far, too fast. She’ll end up getting burnt out, or worse, getting hurt. You’re wearing her down. Can't you see that?”

Oliver abruptly stopped what he was doing and strode towards Diggle, every muscle in his body tense.

“I’ll tell you what I see.” His voice emerged as a low growl, forced through gritted teeth. “When I look at her, I see Slade Wilson with a sword against her throat. I see her getting shot in the shoulder. I see the Count ready to inject her with a lethal dose of Vertigo. I see her  _helpless_.” He moved closer, holding Diggle’s gaze with his own. “I don’t want the next time that something like that happens to be her last." His voice dropped, radiating intensity. "We don’t have  _time_  to take things slow.”

His partner shook his head, ready to argue, but was interrupted by the sound of the door opening behind him. Felicity’s trainers scuffed lightly down the steps.

Diggle scowled, returning Oliver’s glare with his own. “Be careful, man,” he muttered.

He turned to meet Felicity coming towards them and Oliver watched him touch her gently on the arm.

“I’ll see you both later,” he said loudly, but his eyes were on Felicity. “Have fun,” he said to her, flashing a reassuring smile.

Felicity smiled back. “See you later, John.”

Oliver watched him leave, refusing to look at Felicity while his mind was still on the other man’s objections. He knew Diggle didn’t understand, but then, his wife was a soldier like him. He would never have the same fears as Oliver did when it came to his..., when it came to Felicity. Oliver squared his shoulders, huffing in annoyance, and threw the escrima sticks aside.

“So... angry face again today then?” Felicity said brightly. She was trying to sound cheerful but Oliver still detected an undercurrent of worry. Diggle was right he knew, he had been going hard on her lately.

Oliver turned to look at Felicity, eyes skimming quickly over her workout gear as he refused to let them linger. Instead he looked at her face, noticing the tiredness beneath her eyes and the faint frown creasing her brow. Even her mouth was pinched tight in nervousness. He shrugged inwardly. Diggle was right, but he was also wrong. Protecting Felicity was the priority. When she was stronger, when Oliver knew she was as safe as he could possibly make her, then all of this would be worth it.

“Let’s go,” he said, gesturing towards the mats and ignoring her comment. There was no time for joking or friendliness today.

Felicity didn’t answer, her frown deepening as she nodded curtly.  _She's getting used to this,_  Oliver thought with satisfaction.

Oliver took up position opposite Felicity, watching as she dropped into the fighting stance he had taught her. He noticed instantly that her balance was still off, and her head was slightly too far forward. Without a word he attacked her, throwing his entire body forward into the strike. He was pleased to see her avoid him correctly, but that didn’t stop him from taking advantage of her poor stance. At the last second he grabbed her arm and tugged, using her momentum to send her toppling onto the mats.

“Ow,” Felicity groaned. “That was definitely not supposed to happen.”

Oliver simply stood there, waiting for her to get up, refusing to let himself help her. He saw her glance at him, noting the seriousness of his expression, and then watched her slowly lever herself up from the floor. He didn’t speak until she was in her stance again.

“If you take that long to get back up next time, I’ll knock you straight back down again.”

He saw her eyes widen, and noticed the faint glimmer of hurt that flashed across them. She nodded stiffly but did not argue. Oliver reminded himself for the hundredth time that this was what she wanted. For a second he wondered if she would end up hating him for it. His mouth twitched. He would rather she was alive and angry at him than lying dead somewhere because he hadn’t trained her properly.

For the next half hour he worked her relentlessly. Over and over again he attacked her, dropping her to ground at every opportunity and then watching stoically while she dragged herself to her feet again. Once, she managed to knock him down. He felt an inordinate sense of pride in her, that is, until he saw her doing a little dance of triumph. Before, he might have found it cute, but now Oliver simply took advantage of her distraction to sweep her legs from under her and slam her to the mats.

“Never do that again,” he growled, pinning her to the ground. “When they’re down, you don’t let them back up.”

She bit her lip, and this time he thought he saw tears shining in her eyes. He stood back and watched her pick herself up, and then, without giving her time to get her bearings, he swung at her, telling himself he had to make things as realistic as possible. Felicity moved, taking a step to the side to get out of range, but her foot slipped on the edge of the mat and she stumbled forwards. There was a dull thud as Oliver’s fist connected with her jaw. Oliver’s heart missed a beat as he saw Felicity’s eyes roll back in her head and he instinctively lunged forward to catch her as she began falling towards the ground.

He lowered her to the mat, cradling her against his chest, and for a brief moment he allowed himself to feel.

“Felicity,” he whispered, “I’m so sorry, love. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

He was apologising for so much more than hitting her. He stroked the side of her face, already seeing the beginning of a bruise. He let himself hold her for a second, feeling the warmth of her in his arms, and then, very slowly, leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead. Sighing deeply, he placed his thumb in the pressure point over Felicity’s lip, pressing down firmly and circling, a resuscitation technique he had learned in Hong Kong.

“Felicity!” he called loudly. She stirred in his arms, fingers coming up to grip his forearm. Her eyes opened and she blinked rapidly, trying to focus.

“Oliver?” She sounded confused and disoriented.

Oliver brushed Felicity’s cheek gently, knowing that she wasn’t yet fully aware, and placed her carefully on the mat. Then he moved away from her and stood up.

“You messed up your footwork and got hit,” he said, his tone hard. “You passed out.”

“Oh God, wow, sorry,” Felicity groaned, rolling over and slowly pushing herself to her feet. “That’s so embarrassing. I’m so sorry. At least the others weren’t here to see that.”

Oliver said nothing, keeping his face set, still forcing himself not to help her. He waited until she stood up and then resumed his fighting position opposite her. He caught Felicity’s expression when she realised he expected her to fall back into her fighting stance, to continue training. It was a moment of shock and even fear, quickly hidden. Oliver felt an intense surge of love for her as he saw her push those weaknesses aside, drawing on that well of inner strength that made her one of the strongest people he had ever known. But he would not show her his admiration.

“If I had been a real attacker, you’d be dead now,” he snapped.

Felicity swallowed and nodded, resuming her stance. She swayed slightly.

Oliver attacked.

 


	4. Alone at last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity considers her relationship with Oliver following the events of the season two finale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written in 60 minutes in response to the prompt: 'Alone with You'. See smoakandarrow's tumblr blog for more details.

“Oliver.”

Felicity had spoken almost without realising it, having promised herself she would say nothing. She watched as he paused, already halfway up the steps of the lair. He turned towards her, meeting her gaze, and they both knew what she wanted to say. Felicity took a breath, forcing a weak smile, knowing that her eyes were communicating all of the things she could not.

“Be careful,” she said finally. “You know how mad I’ll be if you’re in the hospital and I have to meet with those board members on my own tomorrow.”

She said hospital because it was better than the alternative. Oliver held her gaze a moment longer and she knew he understood. She watched as the corner of his mouth curled upwards in a half smile. The look on his face was all the reply she needed. He would try, of course he would try. What else could he promise her that would not be a lie? And then he was up the steps and gone, the door closing loudly in his wake.

Felicity sat down at her desk, picking her Bluetooth receiver up to fasten it to her ear. She hesitated, turning it over in her hands. For this moment she was completely isolated, cut off from the chaos around her. She was apart from it all; from Diggle, captured and hurt somewhere, from Oliver going after him, possibly to his death. Oliver. She was cut off from Oliver, which was something that usually pained her, but lately it was becoming a relief. A stab of guilt shot through her, but still she did not attach the receiver. Alone at last, she felt a small tear trickle down her cheek.

Before, when she wasn’t near Oliver or in contact with him, especially during a mission, she spent her time worrying or at least thinking about him. In fact, she tended to miss him whenever they were apart, even on an average day. That hadn't changed, it was just that now every moment spent with him was weighted, laden with a thousand things they were not saying to each other. It had been like this ever since Slade. Since that night in the mansion, when Oliver had told her he loved her.

She turned the Bluetooth device over in her hands, eyeing it still. Oliver was on his bike now, speeding across the city. Even now, alone as she was, it was as if she was still with him. She kept one eye on his tracker, watching it fly across the map. Diggle’s tracking device stood static in the far corner, beckoning. Oliver knew where he was going, he wouldn’t need her yet. Felicity didn’t want to think what would happen if Oliver was killed, if Diggle never came back. What would her life be like then? Some part of her, the small, selfish part she hated, wondered if it might be better, easier somehow. No more spending her nights watching them walk out the door and wondering if they would walk back in again. No more patching them up when they came back, bruised, battered or bleeding. No more days, weeks, months, or years caught in the orbit of Oliver Queen. She bit her lip at that thought. It seemed that, without her making any conscious decision about it, Oliver had become the most important person in her life. She spent almost every waking moment with him, working for him, helping him, worrying about him. _Loving him_ , that treacherous part of her mind whispered again.

Felicity groaned, eyes still fastened on the red blip on her monitor, picturing Oliver dodging traffic and cutting corners to get to his friend. There was no point denying it anymore. For a long time she had tried, but when she had heard Oliver say he loved her heart had jumped in response. She had almost believed him. That was the hardest part. Even now she wondered… She cut that thought short as soon as it began. There was no point thinking that way. Just like there was no point spending her life loving a man she could never have. She knew that nothing could come of it. She looked around the lair, the place she sometimes liked to call home. Their home. Was that the most she could hope for? She had always seen her home as a nice townhouse somewhere, with a husband and two children. Sometimes, when she allowed her mind to wander along those treacherous paths, she imagined having that with Oliver.

She shook her head, tapping her fingers on her desk, watching Oliver’s tracker getting closer to its target. He would need her soon. Some part of her knew that he would always need her, that whatever they had together was as important to him as it was to her. But she knew that it was not the same for him, that his needs were very different to hers. For the first time she asked herself honestly if it was enough. She raised the receiver to her ear, knowing that as soon as she turned the comms back on she would be sucked right back into his world again. The tracker on her screen slowed and stopped, blinking demandingly at her. 

Felicity attached the receiver.

“Oliver.”

“Felicity.”

She couldn’t suppress the small shiver she felt. Sometimes he said her name as if it was a lifeline, tethering him, leading him home. She supposed that in many ways it was. Guilt struck her again.

“Digg’s tracker’s still there, hasn’t moved.” She took a breath. “Go get him.”

There was a grunt in reply, followed by the odd, disjointed sounds of fighting. She had long ago given up trying to match the noises she heard to the events taking place. At first, she had tried to picture what was happening, to gauge each sound to see if Oliver was losing or winning, to attempt to share in and acknowledge his pain when he was hurt. But now it was easier to shut it out, to wait patiently for silence, to hold her breath until she heard his voice again. Her eyes strayed to the medical cart in the corner and, from years of habit, she mentally rechecked her supplies. The two blips on the screen grew closer together, the sounds of fighting intensified. She thought she heard Digg’s voice.

“Oliver?” Somehow saying his name contained an entire question.

“He’s here. I got him.”

His voice sounded strained, laced with pain. She wondered if, years from now, she would be able to tell where exactly he was injured by the particular note of agony in his tone. If he survived that long. If she stayed around that long. Felicity listened numbly as the last sounds of fighting died away. She heard Diggle and Oliver speaking, making their way back out of the building. She felt her breathing slow as she realised that tonight they would both make it back to her.

Oliver was coming back.

A different emotion seized her, a sense of anticipation. She didn’t even try to suppress it, knowing that it was futile to try. He would come back in the door, hurt and maybe bleeding, needing her. And then she would be close to him, looking into his eyes, and needing him right back. But not in the way that he wanted. She didn’t know what he wanted. Felicity sighed, hand reaching up to her ear to disconnect her comms. Oliver’s voice resonated in her ear, stopping her halfway.

“Felicity. We’re coming home.”

Her breath caught. There was so much warmth in his voice, so much unsaid. Mentally she finished his sentence. _We’re coming home to you._  She hesitated a moment longer. The objections and fears crowded the back of her mind. She chose to ignore them.

“I know." A pause. "I’ll be here.”

She left the comms open, not wanting to be alone.


	5. FF #5: Redhanded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity gets dosed with the willpower drug and finally gives in to temptation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is part of the Olicity Hiatus Project Fic Challenge 01, Prompt: The single-lip kiss. It's also part of smoakandarrow's tumblr Olicity Flash Fic challenge, Prompt: Red-handed. Feel free to leave comments/reviews! Thanks :)

The metal bar of the salmon ladder clanged loudly as Oliver forced his body upwards, ignoring the burning in his arms. He had been training for well over an hour and was only now beginning to feel tired. He knew that tonight, like most nights for the past month, he would push himself relentlessly to the brink of exhaustion.

Whenever anyone asked him why he had upped his training schedule so much in recent weeks, he simply told them he was trying to make sure he was as sharp and as strong as physically possible. What he didn’t tell them was that tiring his body out to the point where he could barely stand was the only way he could sleep. Complete exhaustion was the only way he knew to stop his mind from circling incessantly forward and back over the same moment, and from fantasising and obsessing about the same person.

Oliver swore under his breath, realising that his thoughts had, indeed, found their way back to that one person again. The security door beeped suddenly as someone punched in the code, and he instantly hoped it was her. Almost as quickly he hoped that it wasn’t. Things were just too complicated right now, after everything that had happened with Slade, and he was still strung too tightly to be alone with her.

The door slammed open with a crash and Oliver dropped to the floor instantly, muscles tensing. He grabbed an escrima stick from a nearby bench, thoughts racing as he tried to figure out what was happening.

“Oliver?”

It was Felicity. He relaxed slightly, eyes drawn to her small frame as she clattered down the steps and crossed the floor towards him. A very tight and very short purple dress highlighted her curves, her blond hair tumbling across her shoulders in thick waves. Oliver realised she had been out for the night. He wondered who with, but didn’t have a chance to ask, because she was still striding towards him purposefully, her heels clicking loudly on the concrete floor. He abruptly realised that she was growing closer to him and seemed to have no intention of stopping.

“Felicity? Is everything ok?”

Oliver barely had time to get the question out before she was wrapped around him, her face resting on his chest as her arms circled his waist. In her high heels the top of her head fell against his neck, her hair tickling his chin. The force of her hug knocked him back a step and he froze, fists clenching at his sides. He could smell her hair, the particular floral shampoo she loved, and a faint whiff of jasmine perfume. He inhaled deeply, shutting his eyes, telling himself she wouldn’t notice.

“Felicity?” he asked again, the softness in his voice not fully concealing his tension.

“You never hug me back,” she responded, her voice gently chiding. “Whenever I hug you, you don’t hug me back. Not properly.”

Oliver opened his mouth to speak, but realised he couldn’t give her an answer. How could he explain to her that he was afraid if he ever really took her in his arms, he might not be able to let her go? Instead he placed his hands on her shoulders, ignoring the fact that her dress left them bare, and stepped back, putting as much distance as he could between their bodies. Felicity grudgingly released him, sighing deeply. She cocked her head on one side and looked up at him, almost but not quite pouting. The fact that she looked completely adorable did not help Oliver as he struggled to collect his thoughts.

“Felicity…” He searched her face. “Are you drunk?”

“What? No, don’t be silly Oliver.” She rolled her eyes at him, but at the same time she reached up and lightly clasped one of his hands where it lay on her shoulder, her fingers gently stroking his knuckles. “It was that drug.”

“What?” Oliver fought a sudden wave of panic, his hand gripping Felicity’s jaw as he tilted her head back, trying to see her eyes. She smiled at him, even as his blood ran cold when he saw how large and dilated her pupils were.

“Relax, Oliver. It’s that drug that’s been going around the Glades. The willpower one. It’s harmless.” She turned her head and leaned into his hand, brushing her cheek against his palm. “We already know it wears off after a few hours.”

“But. How did you…?” Oliver’s brow furrowed, trying to make sense of what she was saying. The fact that the corner of her mouth was now stroking the palm of his hand, in the lightest, most sensual of kisses, was not helping matters at all.

She sighed again, rolling her eyes. Knocking his hands away she stepped closer, her fingers reaching out to trace the Bratva tattoo on his chest.

“I like this one, it’s so pretty,” she whispered. “I’ve always wanted to touch it. Maybe you’ll get stabbed there sometime, or shot or something, and I’ll get to patch you up. Then I can touch it for as long as want.”

Oliver swallowed, his eyes fixing determinedly on a spot above her head, trying not to focus on the sensation of her fingertips on his bare skin.

“Sorry, that sounded less psychotic in my head,” Felicity laughed, her fingers moving from the tattoo to sweep confidently across the muscles of his chest. She sighed again, deeper than before, and Oliver felt his own breath quicken. He held his hands rigid at his sides, suddenly terrified to touch her.

“Tell me what happened, Felicity,” he managed.

“I was out with some people, you know the ones from my new job, and I saw this creepy guy try to put something in one of the girls’ drinks. It was one of those little vials that they sell the willpower, anti-willpower, whatever, drug in.” Her voice sounded distant and far away, both of her hands now stroking Oliver’s torso. He looked down to see a look of appreciative concentration in her eyes, and recognised it as the expression of someone who has admired something for a long time and has finally been given the opportunity to explore it. He clenched his jaw when a fingertip brushed lightly across his nipple.

“What happened then?” he asked between carefully measured breaths, hoping that her story might distract him from everything else she was doing.

“Well, I caught him red-handed. I said ‘What do you think you’re doing, mister?’ in my loud voice. He got a shock and splashed the drug in my face.” Her hands stilled for a moment and she looked up at him, her eyes moving languidly over his features. “So I came here. To you. Because that’s what I knew I needed to do.” She suddenly threw her arms around him again, pressing her face into his body. “I knew you’d take care of me.”

Oliver swallowed, trying to ignore the sensation of her breath against his skin, but his arms came up and circled her body of their own accord. He realised belatedly that the back of her dress had cut-out sections, his fingers coming to rest on smooth, bare skin. He heard her gasp and barely stifled his own response.

“Yes!” Felicity exclaimed.

Oliver was speechless, terrified to ask.

“You finally hugged me back,” she continued, somehow recognising the question anyway. Oliver would have smiled, but Felicity’s hands were moving again, gently massaging the muscles of his shoulders and back. Every touch left tingling trails of electricity on his skin. He could hear his breathing growing heavy and knew there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Felicity leaned back abruptly, looking up into his eyes. Because his arms were still around her she had to take a step closer, and her hips suddenly pressed firmly against his. Oliver released a shuddering breath, knowing he should step away, but instead he felt his grip tightening. He told himself it was still ok, that he hadn’t crossed any of the carefully drawn lines in his mind, but he could feel himself getting closer to them with each passing second.

“You know, this willpower drug isn’t so bad,” Felicity was saying. “Or maybe I’m immune or something, maybe it’s genetic. Because I should be having like, a truckload of mint chocolate chip ice cream delivered here right now. Or at least an insane craving for chocolate. Like, everything I don’t allow myself to do normally. But…” she made a face and shrugged her shoulders, “nothing. I’m totally fine.”

Oliver’s brow furrowed and he found himself nodding helplessly. All he could think of was how close her lips were to his, and how, every time she gestured or spoke, her body moved against his teasingly. Her hands continued their maddening exploration of his back and her hips seemed glued to his. Felicity’s eyes returned to his face, a gentle smile curling her lips, and when she met his gaze she held it, the moment stretching. Then Oliver watched as her gaze very slowly lowered and focused on his lips. He stopped breathing.

“No,” Felicity said quietly, “there’s nothing that I really want to do right now. Instead, I’m just here with you.”

Her brow furrowed and she looked puzzled, as if trying to work something out. Oliver couldn’t help the small, sad smile that pulled at the corner of his mouth, because he already understood. Knowing that she wanted this, that she wanted _him_ , was not going to make staying away from her any easier.

When she kissed him Oliver had plenty of warning, but he still did nothing to stop it. Her lips pressed lightly against the corner of his mouth, as if tasting him, before quickly retreating. Oliver had no idea what Felicity was thinking at that moment. But when she turned her head and kissed him fully on the lips he shut his eyes, savouring every second, knowing that he should step away but somehow unable to move. When he felt her lick his top lip and suck it between hers he let her, opening his mouth to very lightly cradle her bottom lip in his. When her tongue returned he did not resist it. Instead his hands held her more closely against him, cradling the back of her head and holding her waist, allowing her to fully explore him, savouring the knowledge that this was what she wanted.

In the end, finally and for the briefest of moments, he kissed her back.

Then he gripped her shoulders and stepped firmly away, separating their bodies for the last time. Felicity blinked and looked at him in confusion.

“I don’t know why I did that,” she said slowly.

Oliver couldn’t help smiling at the adorable look of confusion that crossed her flushed face. It passed quickly and she cocked her head to one side, flashing him his favourite wide, mischievous smile.

“I liked it,” she whispered conspiratorially.

“Me too,” Oliver whispered back. He took his arms from her shoulders and moved away from her, towards the computers. “Come on, we need to get you some herbal tea. Maybe it will help.”

“The magic herbs?” Oliver grinned at the excitement in her voice. “I’ve _always_ wanted to try those.”

Oliver had answered her before he could stop himself. “Apparently there’s a lot of things you’ve always wanted.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing. Never mind.”

He busied himself preparing tea for her, knowing it was going to take a lot of working out for him to be able to get to sleep tonight, or for many nights to come. He glanced behind to see her swinging in her chair, smiling broadly at him, her eyes shining. Still, he knew he wouldn’t change a thing.


	6. Prompt #6: In the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for smoakandarrow's tumblr Olicity Flash Fic Challenge. Prompt #6: In the Dark. Felicity is attacked and ends up in hospital, so Oliver decides to exact revenge. TRIGGER WARNINGS: hints at attempted rape, quite violent.

“…a black eye, it looks like two cracked ribs, maybe more but we’re not sure yet, a broken finger, and a bad burn on her chest. At the moment we have her sedated for the pain, but…”

The doctor was still talking, in an apologetic but ultimately detached tone, but Oliver had stopped listening. He felt Diggle move beside him, heard him say something to the woman.

“Where’s her purse?” Oliver interrupted, his voice tight and carefully controlled.

“I’ll go find it,” Diggle offered, clapping a hand briefly to Oliver’s shoulder. Oliver did not reply, forcing himself to stand still, barely controlling the rage that surged through him. Someone had hurt Felicity. Someone had put her in the hospital.

Ever since he had gotten the call telling him that Felicity had been found beaten and barely conscious on the street, fear and fury had been battling for supremacy within him. Now that he knew her injuries weren’t life threatening he gave in to the latter. But first he needed information.

Diggle returned with Felicity’s purse, her phone already in his hand.

“She was on a date, right?” Oliver asked, keying in the passcode.

Felicity had made sure they could access her phone, in case of emergencies. She also made sure to tell them whenever she went out, and with whom, just in case anything was to happen. By anything, she had meant something to do with their Arrow activities, but Oliver had a feeling that this was unrelated.

“Yeah,” Diggle answered. “She sent us the guy’s name.” Diggle searched his own phone. “Joseph Branton. You think he…?”

“I think she was with this guy, and next thing we get a call that she’s in the hospital.” Oliver said grimly. “I know where I’m going first.”

He searched Felicity’s files to find the background check she now routinely conducted on everyone she met.

“Got him.”

Without a backward glance he turned and strode towards the exit. Diggle’s voice called him back.

“Oliver.”

He hesitated, turning to meet his friend’s concerned gaze.

“Whatever you do,” Diggle said, “remember you’re going to have to tell her about it when she wakes up.”

Oliver gritted his teeth, his fists clenched at his sides, but he nodded curtly. “I know. Stay with her till I get back.”

Diggle shook his head, his eyes soft with emotion. “Like you have to ask.”                                                

Less than ten minutes passed before Oliver was in his green leathers, on his bike, and speeding across town. He had considered going as himself and not the Arrow, but he still didn’t know how this was going to end. Even now, part of him wanted the personal touch, wanted the person who had hurt Felicity to know that he, Oliver Queen, was exacting revenge on her behalf. It was strange and illogical, but Oliver knew he was very close to losing all reason completely and taking a man’s life tonight.

_A black eye, two cracked ribs, a broken finger, a bad burn on her chest._

The doctor’s voice murmured incessantly in the back of his mind, repeating over and over. Oliver’s fingers tightened on the handlebars.

When he finally reached Branton’s apartment he vaulted silently up the fire escape, his barely contained fury lending a taut, predatory grace to his movements. Crouching outside the window, Oliver smashed it with the end of his bow, vaulting over the sill to land next to a black leather couch. A tall, thirty-something man dressed in a shirt and boxer shorts stared at him from the kitchen, his jaw hanging open in shock. As Oliver stood up, the surprise was quickly replaced by fear.

“You… Why? What are you doing here?”

Oliver stalked towards him, arms rigid at his sides. “Joseph Branton?” he asked tightly.

He saw the other man’s hands begin to shake, the water in the glass he was holding begin to splash over the sides. There was a small bruise forming on his cheek. Oliver’s jaw clenched.

“I don’t understand,” Branton babbled, “you’ve made a mistake… I don’t have money, I’m not wealthy.”

The realisation that not a trace of guilt or understanding had crossed the man’s face only fuelled Oliver’s fury. Branton genuinely could not comprehend why the Arrow was paying him a visit.

_A black eye, two cracked ribs, a broken finger…_

Stopping a few paces in front of him, Oliver took Felicity’s phone out of his pocket. He held it towards the other man, the pink panda cover clearly visible, and saw his eyes widen in recognition.

“Hey, hey man,” Branton put the glass down, raising his hands and edging away from Oliver. “That was, that was nothing.”

He began shuffling towards the living area, trying to keep as much distance between himself and Oliver as possible.

“Nothing.” Oliver barely managed to spit the words out. He swivelled slowly to follow Branton’s movements, never taking his eyes from him.

“Well, yeah, things got a bit out of hand, but, it wasn’t my fault.” He lowered his hands, flashing a conciliatory smile. “You know what girls are like man, they play with guys like us.” He gestured between Oliver and himself.

Oliver tightened his jaw, his fury building. The doctor’s voice continued to murmur in his head.

_A black eye, two cracked ribs…_

“She played with you.” It was almost a question.

“Yeah, yeah. Like we’re on a date, things are going well, you know, I’m getting a little action.” Even now, Branton couldn’t keep the smug expression from his face, smirking at Oliver suggestively. “So then I say ‘hey let’s take it back to my place’. And you know what, she said yes.”

He raised his hands in a gesture of innocence.

“She said yes,” he repeated emphatically. Branton was growing more confident as his story progressed, his conviction dispelling all former traces of fear in his voice. “And then, then, we get here, and the bitch changes her mind.”

He stopped, spreading his hands in disbelief. “She’s standing right here man, in my apartment, and she just says she can’t, she wants to go home, blah, blah, blah.” He shook his head, assuming Oliver’s obvious agreement. “Now, I’m like you man, I’m not the kind of guy who’ll take no for an answer. She’s here, she wants it, now she’s changing her mind? So yeah, I got a bit persuasive, I mean you should have seen this girl, how she was dressed. Believe me I know, she definitely wanted it.”

“What happened next?” Oliver forced the words through clenched teeth, fighting to keep from putting an arrow through the guy where he stood. Only the knowledge that Felicity would not want him to held him back.

“Well that’s the thing. The bitch hit me! She fucking hit me!”

“And you hit her back.”

“Of course I did. She hit me!” he said again, his voice ringing with disbelief. “These bitches man, they think they can do whatever they like. Playing with us, leading us on, teasing us. And then, drop of a hat, it’s all ‘no’, ‘no’, ‘no’. Every so often they just need to be put right back in line.”

“And the burn?” Oliver asked, his voice oddly even. He was well past the point of fury now, instead he was merely functioning, coldly and efficiently.

“What?”

_A black eye, two cracked ribs, a broken finger, a bad burn on her chest._

 “The burn on her chest.” Oliver watched Branton’s eyes widen in response to his tone, a tendril of fear finally beginning to take root.

“I left my iron on before I went out. When I… when she fell, she must have knocked the iron over. It fell on her, I guess. I don’t know man… like I said, I lost my temper, things got a bit out of hand.”

His voice was beginning to shake. Oliver glanced around, seeing the iron propped on the kitchen counter. Wordlessly, he reached out and switched it on. Branton’s eyes followed him, wide and staring. Oliver looked back at him, meeting his gaze, allowing his intent to show. The other man gasped and turned pale.

Still not speaking, Oliver crossed to the doorway and turned the lights off, leaving them both in the dark. In the sudden silence Branton’s breath sounded overloud, his gasping, rapid intakes growing shorter and faster as his terror grew. Oliver moved towards him, knowing that his silhouette was clearly outlined in the dim light cast by the nearby streetlights. The other man stood frozen, not even trying to escape.

“Please,” Branton begged, “don’t hurt me.”

Oliver’s fist connected mercilessly with the other man’s face. He staggered back, falling against the couch.  _A black eye_.

“Stop,” Branton pleaded, fear and pain making his voice shake. “Please.”

Oliver remained silent, batting the frantic man’s arms aside as he rained punches onto his chest and sides. He heard Branton groan in pain, writhing on the couch where he had fallen.  _Two cracked ribs, maybe more._

“Come on, man!” he cried. “It’s not like I raped her!”

Oliver’s jaw clenched. Catching a flailing hand in his, he clamped his fist around the other man’s wrist, his other hand methodically selecting the index finger. He looked down, seeing Branton’s wide, terrified eyes illuminated by the streetlights lancing across his face. Oliver held his gaze, face cold and expressionless, and then mercilessly yanked the finger back, not releasing it until the fingertip brushed the back of Branton’s hand. His scream split the silence.  _A broken finger_.

Releasing his hand, Oliver gripped the collar of the man’s shirt, ripping it open to expose the top of his chest.

“Oh God, oh God…”

Stepping away and ignoring the man’s moaning, Oliver crossed towards the now scorching hot iron. He picked it up, flicked on the lights, and moved very slowly back to the couch. He stood there, looking at Branton huddled and moaning, waiting for the other man to realise what was about to happen. Feeling his presence Branton turned his head slightly, opening his eyes just enough to see Oliver and the iron ready in his hand.

“No… no… please,” he began, tears streaming down his face.

Oliver yanked him into a sitting position, brushing his weak attempts at defense aside. He grasped Branton’s face in his free hand, forcing him to make eye contact, and raised the iron.

The apartment door slammed open behind him.

“SCPD, hold it right there!” Detective Lance’s voice rang out loudly.

“Oh, thank God,” Branton cried. “Officer, please, please help me!”

Oliver did not bother to turn, knowing that a gun was already trained on him. He didn’t drop the iron. He heard Lance edge into the apartment.

“Am I gonna have to put a bullet in you?”

Oliver gritted his teeth, not taking his eyes from Branton. “You know what he did?”

The detective sighed heavily behind him. “Yeah, I know. I was at the hospital. Queen’s bodyguard told me where to find this guy.”

Oliver grunted, not surprised by Diggle’s actions. The detective continued speaking, his tone strained. “I know you care about her, and believe me, I think this guy deserves everything he gets. But you and I both know she wouldn’t want his blood on your hands.”

“I’m not going to kill him.” For the first time Oliver turned and looked the detective in the eye, noting the other man’s anger and distress. “Felicity just owes him one more thing.”

Lance did not respond, but Oliver saw a hint of understanding in his eyes, coupled with the barest shadow of approval.

It was enough.

Without a word Oliver clamped a hand on Branton’s shoulder, holding him in place as he pressed the hot iron firmly down on the exposed skin of his chest. He held it there, listening to the man scream, the smell of burning flesh filling the apartment.  _A bad burn on her chest_.

Oliver stood up, letting the iron fall to the floor, barely aware that Branton had passed out from the pain. He felt drained. It was as if, his punishment enacted, the other man had ceased to exist. Instead, his thoughts turned to Felicity. He heard the detective move closer behind him, holstering his gun.

“She gonna be ok?” Lance asked quietly.

“Not for a while,” Oliver responded, his back to the detective. “She’ll have some scars.” They both knew they would be more than just physical.

“Well,” Lance said, standing next to him and looking down at Branton, “if there’s anyone who knows about scars, I’d say it’s you.”

Oliver turned to meet the detective’s gaze, and a wordless thanks passed between them.

Lance nodded. “Take care of her.”

“I will.”

Without a second glance at Branton, Oliver climbed through the window and out onto the fire escape. He was on the ground and on his bike within seconds, speeding towards the hospital.

Felicity needed him.       


	7. FF#7: Illusions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity struggles with her own personal illusion in Oliver Queen's world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is about a week late, but anyway here it is. The prompt is 'Illusions' and it's part of smoakandarrow's Tumblr Olicity flash fic challenge. This one is from Felicity’s POV and has some strong Isabel overtones.

“Oliver?”

Felicity stood at the door to Oliver’s office, her tablet ready in her hand. She waited for him to look up from his computer.

“Mhm-mm?”

She sighed, knowing he had no idea who was waiting downstairs.

“That investor we talked about yesterday is on his way up. You know, Mr Brooks, the guy who’s interested in helping rebuild Applied Sciences?”

She saw Oliver nod in understanding, his jaw clenching as the meeting’s importance registered with him. He stepped out from behind his desk and straightened his jacket, glancing around for his notes.

Pursing her lips, Felicity moved back towards her desk, wondering what had been distracting Oliver on his computer. He had a lot to deal with right now, having just regained his company, and his night job hadn’t exactly been slow lately either. Sometimes Felicity worried how he would manage if she wasn’t around to keep an eye on the little details for him. Yes, that was technically an EA’s job, but typically that was a ‘one position only’, ‘single set of responsibilities’ kind of thing. But, like Oliver, she was pulled between two jobs, and it wasn’t always easy to balance both. She glanced towards the office doorway, running through details in her head. For now, at least, she knew she could help.

Felicity had already thoroughly researched their potential new business partner, gone through his preliminary proposal with Oliver, and together they had worked out detailed sets of questions to ask and conditions to impose. After what had happened with the mirakuru, getting Applied Sciences back was a priority. The Arrow needed all the resources he could get.

Felicity turned to see Oliver moving towards her, his expression determined but slightly nervous. He must have seen something similar in her face because his hand instinctively gripped her arm, squeezing gently.

“Hey, it’s going to be fine,” he smiled at her, his eyes warm. “We’ve got this.”

Felicity couldn’t help but smile back. He was right, they were as prepared as they could be. She turned towards the office entrance as the elevator doors pinged, conscious of Oliver quickly removing his hand. Her skin felt oddly bare in its absence.

 

“Oliver Queen, great to meet you.”

A small, balding, middle-aged man was walking towards them, hand outstretched. Two younger, serious-looking gentlemen followed in his wake.

Felicity watched Oliver stride forward to take his guest’s hand.

“Mr. Brooks, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He stepped back, gesturing towards Felicity. “This is my executive assistant, Felicity Smoak.”

Brooks glanced briefly in Felicity’s direction, eyes skimming down her outfit. He nodded brusquely.

“I’ll take an espresso, and the boys here will have cappuccinos.” He turned back towards Oliver, already moving towards the boardroom.

Felicity stiffened, fingers clenching at her sides. She bit her lip, trying to freeze her expression in place. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Oliver shoot her an apologetic glance, his deep frown extremely obvious. Felicity gave a slight shake of her head, letting him know it was ok. The last thing they needed was the meeting to get off to a bad start because Oliver was offended on her behalf.

She watched them disappear into the boardroom and went to get the coffees, waiting until she was out of sight to allow her bad humour to show.  _It’s all an illusion,_  she thought to herself,  _all of it._  

Oliver thought he was the only one playing a role, putting on his suit and appearing at Queen Consolidated as the upstanding representative of the Queen dynasty, doing everything in his power to restore his family’s company and name. And then of course there was his other role, and his other suit. Each were different illusions, that he could put on and discard at will. It wasn’t so easy for everyone else.

Felicity stared at the coffee machine, refusing to feel guilty for the hate she was directing at the inanimate object. She caught sight of her reflection in the stainless steel finish, taking in her blond hair in its neat ponytail and her tailored purple dress. She sighed, knowing how people saw her, not just here at Queen Consolidated but everywhere she went. It was obvious how she appeared to Brooks. Felicity’s own personal illusion was very clearly defined and, unlike Oliver’s, it wasn’t so well respected or so easily discarded.

When she returned to the boardroom, coffees set out on a tray, the meeting was already underway. She wasn’t surprised, not expecting them to wait for her before beginning, but it still rankled. She passed the coffees around, nodding curtly at Brooks’ cheerful  _‘Thanks sweetheart’_ , and took a seat next to Oliver.

“Well, the way we see it,“ Brooks was saying, “we need a guaranteed return of say, 18%, in the first quarter.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Felicity snapped, before hurriedly adding a short laugh to soften the impact of her words. She looked between the surprised expressions of Brooks and his assistants. “I mean, that’s really unreasonably high.”

“It is higher than we expected,” Oliver interjected smoothly, his face softened by his broadest, fakest smile.

Brooks opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a sudden loud bang from outside the boardroom, followed by the sounds of running feet. Oliver sprang from his chair and was already halfway towards the door when he abruptly stopped short, arms raised. Felicity leaned forward in her seat, looking past Oliver to see a thin, sharp-faced man dressed in a security guard’s uniform standing in the doorway, a gun pointed at Oliver’s chest. He edged forward, making room for two other, similarly dressed men. They spread out, gun barrels sweeping over Brooks, his assistants, and Felicity.

“Don’t move,” the first man snarled, his eyes still on Oliver.

Felicity kept her gaze fastened blankly on Oliver’s back, fingers surreptitiously moving across the screen of her tablet. A woman’s voice froze her in place.

“He told you not to move.”

She looked up to see a tall, thin woman with long dark hair striding through the doorway, her eyes locked on Felicity.

“Put the tablet away, blondie,” she said coldly.

“What do you want?” Oliver’s voice was tight with anger and Felicity could see the muscles in his shoulders tensing. But even she knew the gunman was too far away for him to try anything. Besides, Brooks and his assistants were there, and it would not be easy explaining to them or to anyone else how an unarmed Oliver Queen managed to take out four armed attackers alone.

The woman ignored him. “All of you, get down on the floor.”

Felicity hesitated, earning another sharp look, and then lay down awkwardly on the floor, leaving her tablet lying on the boardroom table.

“Not you,” she heard the woman say to Oliver. “You, Mr. Queen, are going to take that tablet over there and transfer funds from your bank account to this one.”

There was the sound of something hard clicking onto the tabletop. Felicity held her breath.

“No.”

She shut her eyes tightly. Sometimes Oliver was nothing if not predictable.

The woman laughed. “No?”

“I said no. I just got my family’s company back. I’m not giving you a cent.”

“William,” the woman said dryly, “would you?”

There was a loud thump, followed by a bang as something heavy hit the glass table. Felicity hoped it wasn’t Oliver’s face, but had a strong feeling she was wrong.

“Want to reconsider?”

“Not at all.”

There was a second thump, but at least this time it wasn’t followed by the sound of Oliver slamming against the table. Felicity groaned, squeezing her eyes tightly, and before she knew what she was doing she was scrambling to her feet. She looked up to see two gun barrels trained on her, along with four pairs of eyes.

She lifted her hands awkwardly, not needing to fake the fact that they were shaking.

“Can we help you with something, blondie?”

Make that five pairs of eyes. Oliver half turned towards her, his eyes narrowing. She could see blood running down his face from a cut above his eyebrow. Their gazes met and she tried to let him know that she knew what she was doing. He didn’t look convinced.

She turned back towards the woman, who was looking between them, one eyebrow raised.

“I’ll do it,” Felicity said, allowing her concern to show in her voice. “Just please, please don’t hit him again.”

An expression of scorn crossed the other woman’s face and Felicity suddenly felt ashamed. She knew exactly what the woman was thinking, and what she saw when she looked at her.  _It’s just an illusion_  she told herself firmly,  _just another illusion_.  _It doesn’t matter what she thinks_.

“Felicity,” Oliver began, his voice strained, “don’t …”

“I have to Oliver,” Felicity responded, her eyes holding his. “They’ll kill you otherwise.”

For a brief second she allowed her real emotions to show, conscious of their audience. She saw Oliver’s eyes widen, watched him take a short breath, knowing his expression was hidden from their attackers.

“It’s like that, is it?” The other woman almost spat the words. She sneered at Oliver. “Banging your assistant, what a cliché.” Her eyes were cold when she looked back towards Felicity.

“Fine, whatever it takes. Get over here.”

Felicity picked up her tablet and stumbled forwards, doing her best to uphold her impression of a terrified, love-struck assistant. She held the tablet close to her chest, thumbs already slipping over the screen.

The woman gestured for her to sit and thrust a piece of paper towards her.

“This account,” she snapped.

Felicity nodded, swallowing false tears. “How much?” she asked in a weak voice.

“All of it. Everything.”

She nodded again, aware of Oliver stiffening behind her. Felicity ignored him, not wanting to risk looking in his direction. She almost jumped when the woman leaned close to her, breath brushing her cheek.

“You’re a fool,” she muttered, her words laced with bitterness. “Men like him don’t care about people like us. All we are are tools for them to use and then discard when they’re done with us.”

Felicity bit her lip, anger rising. She couldn’t stop herself from replying.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She turned to see the other woman sneering at her.

“Has he told you he loves you?” she asked nastily, her eyes searching Felicity’s expression. Her voice lowered. “Were you dumb enough to believe it?”

Felicity gasped, unable to keep the pain from her eyes. She was only glad that Oliver was behind her and unable to see. She watched a slow smile creep across the other woman’s face as she realised she had struck home.

Felicity gritted her teeth, dropping the tablet on the table.

“It’s done.”

“The money’s in the account?” The woman plucked the tablet from the table, staring at it greedily.

“No,” Felicity answered coldly.

“What?”

“The accounts are frozen, no money in or out for the next 48 hours. Not even I can unlock it.”

“That can’t… how did you do that?” The woman’s face was slack with shock.

“Felicity is  _very_  good with computers,” Oliver said, the pride evident in his tone. “I’d take her word for it if I were you.”

His voice was cut off by a sudden burst of noise from outside the window, and the room was split by a bright beam of light. Felicity turned to see a helicopter hovering outside the window, ‘SCPD’ clearly visible on its side.

“I also alerted the police ten minutes ago,” Felicity added, her eyes hard. 

The door to the boardroom burst open, the gunmen so fixated on the helicopter they barely responded. Within moments the room was filled with armed police officers, tense and efficient as they secured the room.

When the shouting had stopped Felicity stood up from the table, hands still shaking, and almost slammed straight into Oliver. His hands reached out to cup her elbows.

“Hey, are you ok?”

Despite herself Felicity stepped back, the woman’s words echoing in her thoughts. She saw the confusion on Oliver’s face and was surprised that she didn’t care.

“What did she say to you?” he asked quietly. “I heard something about…”

“It’s nothing,” Felicity said, her hand raised to cut him off. She shook her head, pursing her lips. “It doesn’t matter.”

Felicity looked around her, at the police officer helping the dazed Mr. Brooks to his feet, at the woman being led from the room in handcuffs.

“Good thing she believed I was just your ditzy assistant and ‘bit-on-the-side’,” she joked. At least, it was supposed to be a joke. Instead it sounded sharp and bitter.

“Felicity…” Oliver reached for her again and, again, Felicity stepped back. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a police officer approach.

“It’s ok. I think I’m going to go home.”

She turned and walked away, just as the policeman moved in front of Oliver and began bombarding him with questions. Felicity left the boardroom, hoping her own personal illusion of insignificance would last long enough for her to make it quietly out of the building and, just for tonight, far away from Oliver Queen.


	8. FF #8: Nothing to Hide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An angry Felicity surprises Oliver at his apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FF #8, Prompt: Nothing to Hide. The latest prompt from smoakandarrow's Tumblr Olicity Flash Fic challenge.

Oliver looked up sharply from his plate. Someone was knocking no, _pounding,_ on his door. He crossed his small apartment in two short strides and peered through the spy-hole. Then he jerked the door open in surprise.

“Felicity?”

“Something you want to tell me Oliver?”

She strode into his apartment without waiting to be asked, the fierce clicking of her heels on the kitchen tiles telling him more about her mood than anything else. Closing the door behind him, Oliver turned towards her in confusion.

“I’m sorry… what?”

He looked her up and down, trying and failing to be subtle, noting her short dress and perfectly styled hair. He felt something constrict in his chest.

“You… have a date?” He tried to sound casual.

“Yes Oliver. I have a date.” She glared at him, eyes blazing. “Or should I say, I had a date. Know anything about that?”

Oliver was still trying to process the fact that Felicity was dating. He knew he shouldn’t be surprised, especially seeing her standing there in his apartment looking like… well, like Felicity… but still, he was completely stunned. He realised she was waiting for him to say something.

“Felicity.” He stepped towards her. “Are you ok?”

The fury of her response nearly bowled him over. She strode angrily towards him, closing the distance between them until she was inches from his body.

“No, Oliver, I am not ok. I had this date lined up with this really, really great guy. And he seemed so interested, and we had everything arranged, and then suddenly, out of nowhere, he texts me and tells me he can’t make it.”

She threw her hands up in the air, rolling her eyes. Oliver opened his mouth to speak, but Felicity wasn’t finished.

“And then I thought to myself, _hmm_ , I told Oliver that I was busy tonight. And then, I remembered the last time I tried to date someone and your reaction, and your behaviour. So, _naturally_ ,” she jabbed her finger towards his chest, punctuating every point, “I put two and two together.”

She leaned back, folding her arms and searching Oliver’s face. “So, Oliver, is there something you want to tell me?”

“Felicity,” he raised his hands to grasp her arms and thought better of it, pausing halfway, “I didn’t do anything.”

He watched the first tendril of uncertainty take hold, regarding her earnestly while she scanned his face. He spread his hands. “Honestly, I have nothing to hide.”

To his surprise her face fell and she broke his gaze, touching her hand to her forehead lightly. This time he took her arms, fingers resting against her bare skin, and squeezed gently.

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft, “are you ok?”

Felicity took a long breath, still not looking at him. “It’s just, if you didn’t scare him away, then…” She hesitated, biting her lip.

Oliver moved closer, fingers unconsciously stroking her skin.

“Talk to me,” he whispered. She hesitated a moment longer, and when she finally lifted her eyes to his he was surprised to see the layers of hurt there.

“Well, it means he didn’t want to go out with me, I guess. You know, it’s another no-go, another not interested, another…”

Whatever Felicity was going to say died on her lips. Her eyes dropped to the floor again. There was a long silence and Oliver abruptly realised she was fighting tears. Without thinking he moved his hand up and cupped her cheek, thumb stroking her skin gently.

“Felicity,” he whispered. He waited for her to look him in the eye. “If he didn’t want to go out with you, he’s the dumbest man alive.”

He saw her eyes widen and knew he should stop talking, but something reckless spurred him on. Maybe it was the sight of her all dressed up to spend time with another man, or maybe it was the fact that he hated to see her upset and vulnerable, but either way, he found he had more to say. He leaned forward, face inches from hers.

“Anyone who has a chance with you and doesn’t take it is an idiot.”

He heard her gasp and his eyes were instantly drawn to her lips, just in time to see them slowly part as her tongue flicked between them. His gaze moved upwards, scanning her face, trying to read her, before returning inevitably to her mouth. Oliver’s fingers tightened on her arms, his breath coming in short bursts as his heart thumped in his chest. All he had to do was lean forward.

Felicity’s phone beeped. She jumped, breaking his gaze, and stepped back hurriedly, fidgeting with her bag. Obviously rattled she pulled her phone out, almost dropping it in her haste.

“It’s him,” Felicity said, her voice breathless, and Oliver couldn’t tell what had affected her more. She hesitated, suddenly uncertain. “He wants to meet next week.”

She stared at her phone a moment longer, chewing on her lip, not looking at him. The air between them was still heavy with tension and Oliver clenched his jaw, shutting his eyes firmly. All he wanted to do was take a step towards her, knock the phone out of her hands, and kiss her like she had never been kissed before. But that was never going to be an option for him. So he did something else instead.

“That’s great,” he said warmly. He saw Felicity’s head snap up, her eyes widening in surprise. “You should go.”

“Oliver…”

“I mean, I told you,” he continued, not giving her room to speak, “he’d have to be dumb not to want to go out with you.” His voice cracked a little on the last words, remembering how he had meant them the first time he said them.

Something indecipherable crossed Felicity’s face before she quickly looked away.

“Yeah, ok,” she said, already moving towards the door. She was halfway through it when she turned and looked back. “I’m sorry, Oliver.”

Despite himself he moved closer, holding the door open as she moved into the hall.

“Sorry for what?”

“For coming here and accusing you of… you know,” she searched for the right words, “caring, I guess.” She winced. “I mean, I know you care, but, you know, _caring_ caring.”

Oliver shut his eyes for a second, knowing there was no way around this.

“Felicity, I do care,” he said carefully. The corner of his mouth curled in a small smile. “I will always care. And, if you ever need anything, you are always welcome to come here.”

 He saw her nod in acknowledgement, her expression carefully blank.  

“I’m serious,” he added, “you’re always welcome, even if it’s to attack me for things I haven’t done.”

He got a smile from her then, even if it was slightly uncertain.

“Goodnight Oliver.”

“Goodnight Felicity,” he answered, “see you tomorrow.”

He watched her walk all the way down the hall, not closing the door until Felicity was around the corner and out of sight. Then he sat in darkness for the rest of the night, forcing himself to imagine her dating another man, getting married, having children; trying to prepare himself for the inevitable and hoping he could learn to accept it.

It didn’t work.

 

 

 

 


	9. FF #9: Sleepless Nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For smoakandarrow's tumblr Olicity Flash Fic challenge. Prompt #9: Sleepless Nights.

Oliver opened the door to the lair and paused, waiting. A deep silence greeted him, and with it a sense of cold, empty loneliness. He frowned but took the inevitable step further anyway, resigning himself to the fact that the lair was vacant and empty. His jaw clenched, shoulders stiffening as he steeled himself for the night ahead. He had always hated being alone.

But then he heard it – the rapid clicking of keys, a sound that somehow flooded his body with instant warmth and comfort. In an odd way, it had come to mean home. In truth, it wasn’t so much the sound as the images it evoked, and Oliver moved quietly down the steps until he could see her, her long blond hair clutched in its tight ponytail, her head downcast as she studied her screens. His frown relaxed and he released a breath he had been holding for far too long, only now fully accepting that he was not alone.

Oliver hurried down the steps, not bothering to be quiet, covering his earlier uncertainty with an air of practised concentration. Felicity turned to watch him, eyes lighting in a smile, and he wondered if she would stand up to greet him. She used to do that, before, crossing the floor to meet him when he had had a particularly bad night, or when she had been especially worried. She had always touched him then, a palm on his arm or even on his face, an apparently essential affirmation that he was back, safe and well. But that was before Slade, and before their date, the night when their relationship had changed forever. Besides, tonight had been a good night and Felicity seemed relaxed and calm, happy to let her eyes convince her that all was well. Oliver swallowed his disappointment and crossed to hang up his bow, feeling oddly bereft when she turned her attention from him and back to her work.

He wondered what she was doing and, more importantly, how long it would take. A slight twinge of guilt shot through him at his sudden hope that she wouldn’t be finished too quickly, but he chose to ignore it. Taking a deep breath, he glanced about the otherwise empty lair.

“Where’s Dig and Roy?”

Felicity responded with a shrug, eyes not shifting from her monitors.

“They’ve gone home. There wasn’t anything for them to do.”

Oliver nodded, unzipping his jacket and taking off his gloves. He looked around the room again, eyes taking in everything without lingering. He already knew every inch, every bolt in every shelf, every scuff mark on the floor. Sometimes, when he couldn’t sleep, mapping every facet and detail of the lair in his mind’s eye was the only thing that kept him sane. In the back, behind the servers, a small bed waited – the place where he went late at night when everyone else had left and he was really, completely alone. He rarely slept properly, but simply drifted in and out of wakefulness until he felt enough time had passed for him to give up and go back to training. He hated that bed. Sometimes he hated the lair too. He heard Felicity shift in her chair and his eyes flicked towards her automatically. Only sometimes.

Oliver watched her from the corner of his eye as he put away his things, then glanced at the clock on his phone – 23:00. She would be leaving soon. Even the thought of her going made it feel like the temperature in the lair dropped a few degrees. His jaw tightened automatically, and he hated himself for wanting her to stay.

“Felicity.”

His voice echoed oddly, as if the lair were already empty and he was only imagining her there. She looked up at him, eyebrows raised in a question, and he moved closer, standing so he was looking over her shoulder, almost but not quite close enough to touch.

“What are you working on?”

“I’m trying to upgrade my news filtering system. You know, I have it set up to trawl through the news sites and pick up certain keywords and combinations that might be of interest to you, to the Arrow, that is. Well I have two, one for you, Oliver Queen, and one for you the Arrow…”

He nodded as she talked, only half listening, watching the colour rise in her cheeks as she spoke. He realised he was glad that her self-imposed task sounded complex and time-consuming, and instantly cursed himself for his selfishness. That was the old Oliver.

“You should go home.”

He had spoken automatically, the gesture a backlash against his own selfishness, and he instantly regretted it. Felicity’s eyes widened in surprise and something very close to hurt, but she quickly recovered, nodding hastily.

“Oh. Um, ok. Yeah I guess you’re right.” She laughed self-consciously. “I didn’t notice the time.”

She was already standing, awkwardly reaching around Oliver for her jacket. He hadn’t moved, only half aware of how careful she was not to touch him. But he didn’t want to think about that now. An image of himself staring at the ceiling for the next seven hours flashed into his mind and a sudden desperation seized him.

The next instant his hand was on her shoulder, feeling her jump beneath his touch. Big eyes stared up into his, dark under the artificial lights.

“Stay.”

He was too close to her, but he didn’t care. He watched her bite her lip, her teeth brilliant white against her dark lipstick.

“Oliver… I don’t understand.” He could see the concern in her eyes, mixed with confusion and uncertainty. “I don’t think this is a good…”

He cut her off with a gentle squeeze on her shoulder, his fingers moving against the fabric of her blouse in an almost-caress. He knew what she was going to say and it was dangerous territory for both of them.

“Just stay with me, for a while.” His voice sounded fragile, vulnerable even, but it didn’t bother him. She had seen him at his weakest. “Please.”

Felicity looked away from him then, eyes towards the floor, but the sudden sloping of her shoulders told him she had relented.

“Ok.” She smiled then, only half-forced, and gestured around the lair. “I’ve always wondered what you do here late at night, all by yourself.”

Oliver hesitated, suddenly realising he had no idea what he was going to do next. He had been so rattled by the idea of her leaving that he hadn’t thought about what would happen if he actually got her to stay.

“Well,” he cast about for something to say, and picked the most obvious. “Usually I train.”

He saw her raise an eyebrow, her arms folding across her chest.

“So…,” she cocked her head to one side, voice dripping with disbelief, ”you want me to stay here and train… in the middle of the night… with you?”

He had known it was a mistake the moment he said it, but Felicity had somehow managed to take his suggestion and make it sound even worse. But it was too late to turn back now.

“Yes.” It was his turn to force a smile. “Trust me, it’ll be fun.”


	10. Stroke of Luck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a continuation of the previous chapter, #9: Sleepless Nights, and was written for smoakandarrow's Olicity Flash Fic tumblr challenge.   
> Just to clarify my head canon for this one: Oliver and Felicity have gone on their disastrous date and, even though Oliver has told Felicity he loves her, they have both agreed that a relationship cannot happen between them.  
> Prompt: Stroke of Luck.

The arrow bounced off the back wall with a sharp ring and clattered loudly to the floor. Felicity groaned and shook her head, adjusting her glasses in frustration.

  
“I was right,” she muttered.

“About what?” Oliver asked, careful to keep the amusement from his voice. He was behind Felicity and at a safe distance, leaning back against a bench with his arms folded across his chest.

“Archery is utterly ridiculous.”

“Come on, don’t tell me you’re giving up.”

“I’m not,” she snapped back, “it’s just…” She shuffled her feet and looked down at the bow in her hands. She shrugged. “I don’t understand what I’m doing wrong.”

Oliver hesitated, eyes running over Felicity’s small form, automatically noting every error in her stance and posture. The problem was he also automatically noted the tight fit of her dark yoga pants and how her bright pink sports top banded her neck, leaving the pale skin of her shoulder blades bare. He swallowed, grateful that Felicity’s back was towards him.

After he had inadvertently suggested they train together, Oliver had decided that training meant an archery lesson. It was a logical solution, since it meant minimal body contact and a safe distance between them… at least that’s what he had thought. Sighing quietly, he pushed away from the table and moved towards Felicity, who was struggling to fit an arrow to the small practise bow. She muttered to herself in annoyance, and didn’t seem to notice Oliver coming closer as she raised the bow and drew.

“Don’t move,” Oliver murmured, his mouth inches from her ear.

Felicity yelped and the arrow flew across the room, striking the wall a couple of feet from the target.

“Sorry,” she muttered, the colour rising in her cheeks.

“Try again.” Oliver replied, waiting for her to get into position before he began correcting her.

As Felicity focused on nocking another arrow he took advantage of her lack of attention to admire her features, his eyes moving appreciatively over her face. He knew he shouldn’t, but she was distracted and unaware, and he was really only prolonging his own private torture. Felicity had changed out of her heels, dropping about three inches in height, and Oliver was struck by how small she really was. Compared to him she seemed tiny and impossibly fragile, and Oliver’s eyes were drawn to the exposed skin of her shoulder, and the pale scar that marred it. He fought a sudden urge to envelop her with his bulk, to hold her tight against his chest and shield her from the outside world.

Instead, he waited until Felicity drew, watching her silently as she took up position.

“Hold it there,” he said, moving closer to her. “You need to move this…”

…he shifted behind her, adjusting the angle of her right heel with a foot…

“…and this…”

…with one hand he pulled her right hip backward slightly, his thumb inadvertently brushing off bare skin. He heard her sharp intake of breath, and focused on ignoring his own, unconscious response.

“Here…”

…her right elbow was offline, so he nudged it gently into position with his arm…

“…and here…”

…with his left hand he pushed her left shoulder into place, standing close behind her but holding his body at a distance. Even still, it seemed that he could feel every breath she took, the space between their bodies thrumming with some invisible force that pulled him inexorably closer. He told himself he only leaned down next to her eyeline so he could sight along the arrow, but he knew it was a lie. His jaw clenched and he stepped back, and he thought he heard Felicity sigh.

“Now try.” His voice sounded gruff, but at least he had kept his composure.

Felicity let the arrow fly and it landed firmly in the target with a satisfying thump.

“Yes!” she cried, punching the air with her fist.

“Nice shot,” Oliver couldn’t keep the smile from his face. “Now try again.”

Felicity nocked a second arrow and went about setting up her stance. Oliver smiled again to see her concentration as she carefully adjusted her position, resolving not to interfere. When she finally released he already knew she would miss, and wasn’t surprised to see the arrow fall just short of the target, rattling sharply across the floor. Felicity stomped her foot in annoyance.

“Bad luck,” Oliver said easily.

“I don’t understand what I’m doing wrong!”

A memory of another woman and a different archery lesson struck Oliver, along with an answer.

“You’re thinking too much.”

“Well, yeah. Hello, have you met me?” Felicity responded, turning to face him. “Although, hearing that you don’t have to think to shoot an arrow makes a lot of sense. ” She shut her eyes, running her hand across her forehead. “I mean, I didn’t mean that you’re dumb or…”

She stuttered to a halt, brow furrowing as she scrutinized Oliver’s expression. “What is it?”

Oliver looked at her sharply, wondering what she saw on his face. He didn’t even consider lying to her.

“I was thinking about Shado.” He gestured weakly towards the bow still clutched in Felicity’s hand. “She told me that once.”

“Shado.” Felicity swallowed and glanced down at the bow in her hands. “She taught you to shoot?”

“Yes. If it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t be here.”

There was a pause, Felicity still focusing intently on the bow and studiously avoiding Oliver’s gaze.

“From what I’ve heard of her, she sounds… impressive.” Another pause, and then, cautiously. “Slade loved her.”

It wasn’t a question, but Oliver answered it anyway.

“Yes,” he shrugged. “In his own messed-up way.”

“And you loved her.” This time she looked up to watch him, expression carefully blank.

Oliver moved closer, stopping an arm’s length from Felicity. He took a deep breath, eyes moving to the floor, the ceiling, and then finally back to meet hers.

“I… sometimes I thought I did. I cared for her. Very much.”

Felicity nodded slowly, apparently understanding, but Oliver stepped closer still, suddenly needing to make sure.

“Felicity, back then, on the island and before, I was a very different person. Looking back now, I can see that…” he hesitated, closing his eyes tightly. When he opened them she was watching him warily. He reached out and clasped her elbows, ignoring her sharp intake of breath.

“I didn’t know what love was, back then. I thought I did, but it wasn’t until…” He stopped, knowing that this was forbidden territory but, suddenly, he didn’t care. He took a breath, holding her gaze with his. “It wasn’t until I got back, and I met you, that I found out what it really meant.”

Felicity swallowed, her eyes never leaving Oliver’s face. His fingers moved against her skin, and she didn’t flinch or step away. Slowly, Oliver’s eyes moved over her face, down towards her lips, and he found himself leaning closer.

“Felicity…”

Abruptly she moved, arms jerking out of his grip as she took a firm step back.

“No.”

“’No’, what?”

“No, Oliver.” She folded her arms across her chest and glared at him defiantly. “You don’t get to do this to me again! You don’t get to tell me you love me, and then kiss me, and bring all of…” she gestured between them angrily, “… all of this back up again. All because you don’t want to be alone tonight!” She moved past him, grabbing her jacket from the chair, and Oliver turned to follow her.

“Felicity,” he tried again.

“No! I said ‘don’t!’ Because we both know that tomorrow, or maybe even ten, twenty minutes from now, you’ll turn around and tell me that we can’t be together! So no, Oliver, not again.”  
She spun on her heel and stalked up the steps, her ponytail swinging from side to side with the force of anger. Reaching the top she hesitated, turning back to look at Oliver standing speechless below her.

“Oh, and you should know, I won’t be here tomorrow night. Ray Palmer asked me out and I said yes. Goodnight Oliver.”

The door slammed loudly shut, leaving Oliver staring after her, stunned. He didn’t even try to sleep that night.


	11. Who are you?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I wrote a fic, for the first time in a while. This is set at some point after 3x07 (Draw Back Your Bow) and before 3x09 (The Calm), and I used one of smoakandarrow's prompts from her summer flash fic event (smoakandarrow.tumblr.com - massive thanks to her!) for some inspiration. Prompt: Who are you?

Felicity stood shivering in the dark alleyway, her coat clutched tightly to her body and her legs shaking in the bitter winter cold. From the moment she had stepped outside the restaurant into the chill wind, she had regretted the short dress she had chosen to wear to dinner that evening. Stomping her feet, she glanced down at the phone in her hand, hoping to see a message from Oliver. Nothing. She huffed warm air through her numbed lips, watching it form a pale cloud in front of her, and shook her head. Ray was waiting inside with a couple of potential investors, and there was only so long she could reasonably pretend to spend in the bathroom.

A small sound made her start, her head snapping to the left. Something moved in the shadows. Her fingers tightened on her phone, but her breath left her in a rush of relief when a hooded figure stepped out into the alleyway. He strode towards her without a word, his face hidden beneath the shadows of his hood. Still, he closed the distance between them quickly, stopping slightly too close, and she could feel his eyes moving over her face. She swallowed, trying to ignore the sudden, heavy thump in her chest.

He held something out to her. “Here’s your tablet.”

His modulator was turned off, but his voice still sounded odd to Felicity’s ears, strained and tense. She wondered if that was down to the identity of their target.

“Thanks,” she muttered, taking it from his hand and immediately fixing her attention on the screen. She filled the uncomfortable silence. “This dress doesn’t have big enough pockets for one.”

Oliver didn’t answer, but Felicity heard a soft release of breath and guessed where his thoughts were. Some part of her wished she wasn’t wearing a coat, but she knew that the sight of her in a short dress wouldn't make any difference to their awkward, non-existent “relationship”. She frowned and resolved to focus on her screen.

“From what I can see,” she began, “A.R.G.U.S. tracked Cupid as far as Starling City; she somehow managed to deactivate the kill switch and tracker in her head, but she was seen entering the city at the docks. Since then, nothing.”

Oliver moved closer, leaning over her to look at the screen. His bulk blocked only some of the cold wind and Felicity smelled leather and a faint hint of cologne. She struggled not to lean into him, drawn by his body heat. Her numbed hands shook and she lifted one to her lips, attempting to blow some warmth back into it. To her surprise, Oliver’s gloved hand got there first, his large fist closing over hers, fingers moving gently as he massaged heat into her hand.

“You’re freezing. You should get back inside.”

“But…”

“Who are you?”

The woman’s voice rang out without warning, harsh and accusatory, and Felicity jumped, almost dropping her tablet. In an instant Oliver was squarely in front of her, almost blocking her view. Over his shoulder, Felicity could see a small woman crouched on a nearby fire escape, her profile the familiar silhouette of an archer with a drawn bow. The arrow was pointed directly at them.

“Hello lover,” she called sweetly. “Step aside, won’t you? I have some business with your friend.”

“No. You don’t.”

Oliver hadn’t moved, his body effectively shielding Felicity from the woman’s aim. Felicity swallowed, her hands moving across the tablet as she activated Diggle's comms unit. She tried not to think of the fact that Oliver’s bow was lowered at his side, and that he had no chance of loosing an arrow before Cupid released hers.

“What am I to do with you?” Carrie sighed. “I’m gone for barely a month and already you’ve found someone new. I have to say I’m a little hurt.”

“I’m not…” Oliver began. He shook his head. “I told you before, I’m alone. I have to be alone.”

“Yes, that’s what you told me alright! And then I come back to see you cozying up to some blond in an alleyway!” Carrie’s voice was dangerously shrill, and Felicity could see the tip of her drawn arrow begin to shake.

“Carrie, you need to calm down.”

“I am calm!” She took a breath, forcibly steadying herself. “Stand aside, lover,” Cupid continued with false sweetness, “I just want to have a look at the girl you’ve replaced me with.”

Felicity saw Oliver’s shoulders tighten, and knew he would allow himself be shot before he moved an inch. Without a second thought, she stepped out from behind him.

“Hi. Carrie, isn't it?” she said as calmly as she could, although her voice was shaking. “You really don’t need to do this. He and I, um, we’re not… it’s really not what you think.”

“What are you doing?” Oliver hissed. He moved to step in front of her again, but stopped short when Cupid's voice called out in warning.

“Nuh-uh, boyfriend, you stay right there. I’m talking to your lady friend.” The tip of her arrow wavered towards Oliver, and then back toward Felicity. “You were saying?” 

“Yeah, we’re not, _absolutely not,_ together. He didn’t lie to you.” 

Felicity paused, unsure of what to say next to convince the other woman, conscious as always of Oliver’s feelings. But Carrie’s gaze was moving over Felicity’s bare legs and short skirt and her eyes were narrowing. 

“In fact…” Felicity continued desperately. “I’m here with someone else. He’s waiting for me in the restaurant next door. He actually gave me this dress, which is why I’m wearing it… Obviously, I mean, this shade of blue is ok but it’s not really my color. Anyway,” she held her hands out in front of her, focusing on keeping Carrie’s attention, “my point is, if he, the Arrow I mean, if he cared about me in that way, I wouldn’t be standing here in this dress, out on a date with another man.” 

She felt Oliver shift and couldn’t help herself from glancing in his direction. That had sounded harsher than she intended. Oliver was turned slightly towards her, his features hidden in the shadows of his hood, but the slight bowing of his head and the tightening of his fists told her all she needed to know. Guilt struck her, even though she reminded herself once again that it had been Oliver’s choice to step back from their relationship, not hers. 

“You’re lying!” Carrie shrieked, and Felicity turned to see the tip of her arrow pointed squarely at her chest. 

At that moment, a man’s voice echoed down the alleyway. “Hello? Is someone down there?” 

“Ray,” Felicity breathed quietly, as she turned to see his silhouette clearly outlined in the streetlights at the mouth of the alleyway. She realized he was going to see her there, with Cupid and the Arrow, and that she was going to have to think of some lie to explain the whole situation away. 

Carrie turned at the same time, her bow following her gaze. At moment later there was a soft, familiar thrum, followed by a yelp. Felicity spun to see Oliver already lowering his bow, his hood failing to conceal his tightly clenched jaw. Carrie was collapsed in a heap on the stairs, moaning softly, a green arrow protruding from her thigh. 

Felicity instinctively moved towards Oliver, but stopped short when he raised his hand. He didn't so much as glance in her direction, keeping his eyes fastened on the injured woman instead. 

“I’ll take care of this.” His voice was cold and expressionless. “Palmer’s waiting for you.” 

“But…” For once, Felicity couldn’t find the words she needed. “John should be here soon,” she finished awkwardly. 

She stood there for a moment longer, staring at the side of Oliver’s face, wishing she could see him properly. 

“I have to take care of this,” Oliver said again, and Felicity wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or to himself. He took a breath. “You should go to Palmer.” 

Then he was gone, crossing into the shadows of the fire escape where the injured woman still lay, crying softly to herself. Felicity stood frozen for a moment, watching him go. Then, she resolutely turned on her heel and walked out of the alleyway, not stopping until she reached the spot where Ray was still standing. She could see his expression change from one of relief when he first saw her to concern as she drew closer. 

“Are you ok?” he asked softly, studying her face. 

“Yeah, yes, I just… I had to take a phone call.” 

“You seem upset.” 

Felicity bit her lip, aware that her eyes were threatening to spill over. “Oh, um it’s the cold. It makes my eyes water.” 

She laughed awkwardly and shrugged, knowing her lie was apparent. Ray watched her for a moment longer but, thankfully, did not say anything. Instead, he took her arm and led her back towards the restaurant, casting a quick glance over his shoulder into the darkened alley. Felicity did not look back.


	12. Whatever it takes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the next prompt from smoakandarrow's tumblr flash fic event (smoakandarrow.tumblr.com). I'm about four (?) months behind now, but better late than never! Anyway, this one is set a few days after the mid-season finale (3x09, The Climb). Feel free to leave feedback at the bottom. Thanks! Prompt: Whatever it takes.

Felicity was trying to sleep. Rationally, she knew that she needed it, that there was no way she could keep up the search for Oliver with her mind fuelled only by caffeine and panic. But there was also no way that she could sleep when he was still out there somewhere, possibly hurt or suffering. It had been five days, and they hadn’t heard a word. Five days was too long.

Even now, her phone was clasped in her hand, ready to buzz to life the moment Oliver contacted her. After two days spent with her heart in her mouth every time her phone vibrated, she had unsubscribed from every email alert and blocked most of her contacts. Her nerves couldn’t take any more false alarms.

Felicity didn’t know when she had last slept. It was only Diggle’s quiet insistence and the concern in his eyes that had made her finally curl up on Oliver’s bed in the Foundry and attempt to rest. But her mind still churned, considering each and every option, every search algorithm and resource she hadn’t yet tried. And, as always, her thoughts inevitably circled back to the same question, fixed immovably at the forefront of her thoughts. _Why hadn’t he called?_ There were so many potential reasons. She had considered most of them from almost every angle – but there was one possibility, perhaps the most obvious, that she had refused to consider. But, with each passing hour of silence, the other explanations slipped away.

She stirred, squinting up at the ceiling, and then forced her eyes resolutely shut. Green flooded her vision. It was Oliver’s green, the green of his hood and his leathers, the color that Felicity would forever associate with him. Out there, in Starling City, the rest of the world was continuing as normal and that color was everywhere… in the giant Christmas tree in the store window across from Palmer Tech, in the wreath hanging on Felicity’s neighbor’s door. It was even in the decorations Thea had hung up in Verdant, the club’s logo itself glowing neon green in the darkness of the Glades, a silent tribute to its founder. To others, that green brought a sense of festive celebration, but to Felicity it meant only one thing. After she had almost burst into tears at a green holiday coffee cup, she had stopped leaving the Foundry.

But the green was still there when she closed her eyes, a gentle haze that enveloped her consciousness. It was strangely comforting, and she felt herself beginning to relax. It reminded her so strongly of Oliver, as if he was there with her, and she imagined she could feel his arms around her as he held her back tightly against his chest.

“Felicity.”

She gasped, the feel of his arms about her suddenly real, his chest reverberating against her back as he murmured in her ear. She spun, staring up at him, the green mist clearing to reveal blue eyes filled with warmth.

“Oliver? How…? Is this real?”

For a moment, he didn’t speak. Instead he simply smiled at her, the look in his eyes the same as when she had last seen him, when he had told her once more that he loved her. Except, now, something was different. He seemed lighter, less burdened.

“I missed you,” he said finally, arms reaching towards her. “It feels like I’ve been here a long time.”

Without hesitation, Felicity stepped back into the circle of his arms, feeling him pull her close against his chest. His chin rested against the top of her head and she felt him breathe deeply, his entire body relaxing. She sighed, burrowing close against him, questions still swirling in her mind. But, for now at least, she wanted to enjoy this strange peace that had settled upon them. She did not want to think what that might mean.

“I saved Thea,” Oliver said after a time. “The League thinks I killed Sara. They won’t be coming after her.”

Felicity nodded, but tears were rising in her eyes. She swallowed them, forcing the quiver from her voice. “Did you beat him?” She already knew the answer.

“No.” Still, there was no trace of anxiety or regret in Oliver’s voice, only peace and contentment.

Felicity stepped back, pushing against his chest until she could look up into his face. She had to know.

“Oliver, where are you?” She choked back a sob. “Are you…?” She still couldn’t say it. “Just tell me where you are, please!”

Oliver shook his head slowly, his lips curving in a gentle smile. His hand reached out and cupped her face, thumb stroking her cheek.

“I don’t know.” He grinned, an expression of genuine amusement that Felicity had rarely seen. “I only know two things, remember?”

Felicity smiled back through her tears. “I remember.”

“The first, I’ve taken care of.”

He paused, still smiling, but the look in his eyes took on a different tone, his arm tightening around Felicity’s back as he pulled her close to him again. His hand on her cheek tilted her face upwards, his gaze holding hers.

“The second… I’ve only begun.”

Felicity clung to him as he kissed her, cherishing the solidness of his body against hers, the fierce desire radiating from his touch. He kissed her with such passion, such hunger, and such love, that any fears she had were instantly banished, swept away by the strength of his need for her.

Finally he released her, slowly and reluctantly. He rested his forehead against hers, both of them breathing heavily, their eyes still shut.

“I’ll come back,” Oliver murmured, “whatever it takes.”

Felicity nodded, feeling the strength of his grip as the life in his kiss still thrummed through her body.

A moment later, Felicity started upright in the bed in the Foundry, her heart still thumping heavily in her chest. It was empty, her computer screens lighting the otherwise darkened room. She thrust the sheets back and strode towards the computer desks, her phone still clutched in her hand. Glancing down, for the first time she didn't check for messages. Instead, she smiled warmly when she noticed the time. She had been asleep for six hours.

“I’ll find you, Oliver,” she said aloud, “whatever it takes.”


	13. Silent as the Grave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is another prompt from smoakandarrow's (smoakandarrow.tumblr.com) tumblr flash fic event (long since finished). Full disclosure: I spent more than an hour on this one. Hope people enjoy it!  
> Prompt: Silent as the Grave

It was so quiet, that was the strange thing. Even here, in Starling City’s noisy business district, it was as quiet as that bare, empty mountain top in Nanda Parbat, where Oliver had stood and fought for his life against the Demon’s Head, Ras Al Ghul. It was even as silent as what followed after, when he lay broken and bleeding on cold snow and sharp rocks, the life fading from his body. Each breath, every heartbeat, had been more silent than the last until, in the end, there had been no sound at all. Instead, there was only empty silence and creeping dark. The worst of it was that, even then, there had been no peace.

But, somehow, he had not died that day. Now he was back, returned home to his life among the living. Still, the sound had never fully returned. As Oliver stood on the rooftop across from Queen… _Palmer_ _Technologies_ , the noise of the traffic below him, even the chill wind sweeping across the rooftop, seemed muffled and dull. It felt like some invisible barrier had come between him and the rest of the world, settling upon him like a thick mist and cutting him off from any real, human sensation. He felt out of place, as if Death had crawled halfway into his head when he lay dying on the mountain-top all those weeks ago and had never really left.

Oliver was watching a particular office in the building across from him. That office had once been his and was now Felicity’s but, for some reason, he had always thought of it as _theirs_. He watched it through the mist and the silence, drawn there because he knew that that was where she would be. Still, he was uncomfortable, so close to the site where he had witnessed Felicity in Palmer’s arms. Even now, that memory taunted him. Oliver frowned, struggling not to imagine what else might have happened after he had left or what had happened since. He knew that no good would come from thinking along those lines, just as he knew that he was the one who had pushed Felicity away and towards the other man in the first place. Still, Oliver wondered if it would have hurt less if he hadn’t seen her with Palmer in what he still thought of as their office. How many times had he sat at that desk and watched Felicity through the glass wall, imagining doing the exact same thing? How many times had he held himself back, curling his fingers inwards and keeping his distance, purely to keep from reaching out and touching her? How often had he clenched his jaw against all the things he couldn’t say? Oliver squeezed his eyes firmly shut, stopping the flow of memories. The wind whistled by him, still hollow and far away. He shook his head, trying to clear the haze from his mind, but he already knew it would do no good.

The light was off in the office. Oliver wondered where she might be, then stopped when his imagination took him in the obvious direction. Regret surged within him but, when it came to Felicity, he had to believe that he had made the right choice. He had gone too far as it was, telling her that he loved her. And, if anything, recent events had only proved him right. How much worse would it have been for Felicity if they had really been together and he had actually died? He had been lucky this time, but the words he had said to her after Sara’s death still rang true in his mind. Some day, probably soon, it would be him.

Oliver sighed. He still wasn’t sure if he should let Felicity know that he was still alive. Would it not be easier for her to move on with Palmer, to build a life and a future, if she knew that Oliver had loved her but believed that he was gone forever? Was it not selfish of Oliver to remain a presence in her life, causing her such unnecessary pain? He thought it might be. And yet, here he was. It was the first place he had come, still wearing the clothes that Maseo had given him. For all his resolutions, all his half-formed convictions, he had to see her.

The light flicked on in the office across the street. Oliver felt his breath catch, his chest tightening as the world slowed. Inadvertently, he took a step forward.

He saw her.

Felicity’s hair was up, fixed in its perfect ponytail, a tight-fitting black dress clinging to her frame. As she moved slowly into the light, a tablet folded against her chest, Oliver could see that she was, as always immaculate. Not a hair was out of place and her makeup was expertly and thoughtfully applied. But he knew her intimately, and everything about the woman he saw walking into the room radiated _wrongness_. Her back was bent, ever so slightly, her shoulders rounded as if she carried a great weight. Each step she took was slow and heavy, as if even the simple act of moving came close to sapping all of her strength. With a pang, Oliver remembered how her heels used to click purposefully across the office floor as she strode between his desk and hers. She had always done everything purposefully. Now, he watched the woman he loved sink heavily onto a couch facing the window, her fingers slipping beneath her glasses to rub against her closed eyes. He had seen her do that before, on late nights in the Foundry, but never with such…defeat.

He wanted to hold her. He took another inadvertent step forward.

There was movement in the office doorway behind Felicity. It was Palmer. Oliver froze, watching as the man who now occupied his place in Felicity’s world strode confidently into the office, talking animatedly. He stopped behind the couch, still speaking and apparently unaware of Felicity’s distress. Oliver watched her slowly remove her hands from her face. Soon she was answering Palmer, although she did not turn to face him. Instead, she kept her head down, her back bent as she rested her elbows on her knees. Suddenly angry, Oliver cursed the other man's obliviousness towards Felicity’s pain. How could he not see what she needed? Oliver thought she might even be crying, but he was too far away to tell. He moved closer, taking another step forward, and unconsciously stepped into a shaft of brilliant lamplight.

Felicity’s head snapped up. A heartbeat later her body followed and she strode to the window, her face frozen in shock. Even from that distance, Oliver could see that she was staring straight at him. He held her gaze, unable to move, reading the shock on her face and watching it turn to disbelieving hope. Suddenly Palmer stepped close behind Felicity and placed his hand on her shoulder, and she turned automatically towards him.

Instantly, Oliver turned on his heel and raced across the rooftop towards the doorway that led down into the building below. He hadn’t meant for it to happen this way. He still wasn’t even sure what he wanted. But, as he took the stairs two at a time, he felt only guilt when he remembered how he had considered never coming back to her. Now that he had seen Felicity and the devastation his apparent death had wrought, he felt selfish in a completely different way. He should have called her earlier. He should have let her know he was alive. Above all, he should have accepted the fact that he could never stay away; his presence here, on his first night back, was proof enough of that.

Oliver reached the ground floor of the empty, darkened building and sprinted towards the door, his footsteps still dull even on the tiled and polished floor. He didn’t really know where he was running to, but he knew that he couldn’t face Felicity right now. He wasn’t ready, and it was enough that she knew he was alive. He yanked the door open and was halfway onto the pavement when he saw her, standing at the doorway of Palmer Tech, her blond hair glowing beneath a streetlight. She stared at him wide-eyed.

Without making a conscious decision, Oliver crossed the street towards her. There was nothing else he could do, and it suddenly felt like he had been walking back towards her ever since the day he left. As he grew closer the tiny details of her face became clear: the faint hint of gauntness, the slightly streaked mascara, the tiredness between her eyes. Guilt struck him again, knowing that he was the one who had done this to her. For a brief moment he considered simply walking away, but the look of hope in her tear-filled eyes drew him inexorably forward. Finally he stopped, only inches from her. It was still too far but, as always, he was caught between his heart and his head. He wanted her, _all of her_ , and he knew that he shouldn’t.

The silence stretched between them, Oliver’s eyes moving over Felicity’s face even as hers did the same. Then, Felicity’s hand stirred, and Oliver watched as her fingers reached out towards his. He felt a jolt as they slipped inside the tight circle he had unconsciously made with his own.

“Oliver,” she whispered.

The sound came back and, for the first time since he had awoken, Oliver felt as if he really was still living. The cold air bit at his face, the wind whistled in his ears, and Felicity’s hand was warm in his own. His fingers tightened on hers for a moment and then Oliver opened his arms. She stepped into him wordlessly and he enveloped her, holding her tightly against him. He almost sobbed with relief when he felt her relax against him, the pain and tension flowing from her body. He turned his face into her hair and breathed her name, and knew that no matter what might happen between them, he could never leave her again.


	14. Let's Not Say Goodbye This Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a quick one-shot I wrote after the latest episode (3x21), because I started to imagine what would have happened if Oliver and Felicity had had a change to talk to each other alone. Happy reading!

Felicity paused before the closed door, glancing down at the phone gripped tightly in her shaking hand. The red light stayed where it was, right on top of her position. She swallowed, trying to ignore the churning in her stomach and the pounding in her chest.

She knew that that this was stupid, that John would be horrified if he knew where she was, that Oliver… _her_ Oliver, would have been furious. Just thinking of him was enough to summon an image to her mind: Oliver standing over her and shouting, the anger in his eyes completely failing to mask his concern. Felicity blinked back tears, knowing that she would give anything to be able to leave and go back to the Foundry, to have everything just as it had been, even if that meant facing down Oliver in one of his rages. But the Foundry was gone and so was he, which was why she was here.

Felicity glanced at her phone again, a force of habit born of nerves. The tracker that she had placed on Maseo’s sleeve when he had been about to search her earlier that night still hadn’t moved. Back then, she hadn’t even been sure what, if anything, she had planned to do with it. But then Oliver had looked at her and, somehow, despite the painful distance between them and his unnatural, dead expression, she had seen _him_. Oliver Queen, not Al Sahim. Now, she wondered if she had imagined it. Perhaps it was simply wishful thinking. She had to be sure.

Felicity thrust the phone into her pocket and remembered Oliver’s parting words to her as she gripped the door handle and carefully edged the door open. _Let’s not say goodbye this time._ She hadn't. And if there was anything that could be done, any hope at all, she never would. On some level she knew that the alternative was also possible, that this might be the time when she truly did let him go, and said farewell for the last time. She didn't want to think about that.

The rooftop was in darkness, the shadows only barely weakened by lights from the nearby buildings. It was cold too, even the shelter provided by the air-conditioning vents and the single stairwell couldn’t block the night wind that moulded her thin coat to her body. Felicity pulled the garment more closely around her and kept her back tight to the stairwell wall as she edged away from the door. She peered into the darkness around her, her breath coming in tight, short bursts. There was no movement on the rooftop. For a moment, relief almost overcame her disappointment as she realised the tracker must have been dislodged from Maseo’s sleeve. Felicity's heart sank, but some of her shaking subsided.

She didn’t even see the shape move in the shadows beside her. Instead, all she felt was sudden, searing pain in her side. She stumbled forward, tripping over her feet, a shove or a kick knocking her face first onto the concrete. She rolled over to see her attacker, just as the light from a nearby building glanced off the assassin’s raised sword. Felicity’s eyes slammed shut automatically, and she held her breath as she waited for the sword to descend.

The sudden clash of steel made her eyes slam open again. The silver blade hovered above her, blocked by another. Felicity’s gaze followed the new blade up towards the face of its owner, and she flinched at the grim features glaring down at her.

“Oliver,” she whispered.

He ignored her, barking an order at the other man. The assassin instantly withdrew, sheathing his sword and disappearing across the rooftop. Oliver stood still, watching him go. Then, he leaned down and yanked Felicity to her feet, ignoring her protests as he dragged her towards the back of the stairwell. He slammed her against the wall, holding her in place with a hand on her shoulder. Light from a nearby apartment block sliced across his face.

“I should kill you right now,” he said quietly, his tone venomous.

“Oliver…” Felicity began, taking a step forward. He shoved her back against the wall almost effortlessly.

“My name is Al Sahim.”

Felicity opened her mouth to reply, but thought better of it when he stepped closer. His sword was sheathed, but his expression held a warning. She searched his face in the dim light, hunting for any semblance of the man she loved. Everything about him was different, his expression, his clothes, even his hair. But there was a familiarity in his stance, in the way he invaded her space without seeming to notice. Her eyes moved over his body and returned to his face, and her breath caught when she realised that he was studying her in turn. A familiar frown creased his brow as his eyes moved slowly over her face. He scanned every inch of her features, examining her, taking his time. She watched his lashes dip as his gaze lingered on her lips. Oliver's expression didn’t flicker, but Felicity saw him draw a breath, long and deep, his shoulders rising and falling as he inhaled her. It was a familiar movement, from very long ago, when the words “I love you” were less than unthinkable to either of them.

“Do you remember me?” she asked quietly.

Oliver’s expression tightened and his cold blue eyes snapped to hers. For a moment she thought he wouldn’t reply. When he finally did, it was barely a grunt. “Yes.”

She nodded, steeling herself for the next response. “Do you...do you remember that you loved me?”

Oliver’s frown deepened, his eyes resuming that relentless scanning of her face. He shifted closer still and Felicity inhaled leather and incense. It reminded her of Nanda Parbat, of Oliver's room and a shared, stolen hour. She clenched her hands at her sides to keep herself from reaching for him.

“I remember." Felicity wondered if Oliver's thoughts were in the same place as hers. "But that man is dead now. Al Sahim is all that remains.”

Felicity swallowed, nodding as she struggled to hold back her tears. But something in Oliver’s tone caught her attention. It was as cold as ever, but there was a slight edge to it that hadn’t been there before. She almost flinched when she saw his hand rise, but froze when he laid it gently against her cheek. She held his gaze as he tilted her chin up, wondering if he noticed that his thumb was very slightly stroking her skin. He turned her head gently, angling it towards the light, studying her with a faintly puzzled expression.

She felt his body shift as his other hand moved, coming to rest on the side where she had been struck. This time she did flinch, and at the same moment she felt the wetness of her clothing as Oliver’s hand pressed the fabric against her skin. Alarmed, she looked down at the same moment as Oliver raised his hand, a dark, wet stain spreading across his palm.

“Oliver?” she whispered, panic rising. When she met his eyes, the coldness was gone. Instead there was a single emotion, naked and raw. Fear.

His eyes were the last thing she saw before she passed out.

When Felicity woke up in a hospital bed hours later, with Diggle and Thea standing at her side, the first person she looked for was Oliver. Even when her memories came flooding back, all she could see was that last glimpse of Oliver's eyes and the fear they held.

They still hadn't said goodbye. She knew now that they never would.


End file.
